


The Bird and the Hound

by thehoundsraven



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bodyguard Sandor Clegane, Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater, Disguise, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Married Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Oral Sex, POV Sandor Clegane, Protective Sandor Clegane, Romance, SanSan Week, Self-Defense, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Tomboy, canine, the hound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-06-27 23:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19800187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehoundsraven/pseuds/thehoundsraven
Summary: Sansa must come to terms with what it means to survive beyond the highborn life as she is now on the run. The adjustments seem overwhelming, but of course her protector deems them necessary or her survival.





	1. Chapter 1

Sandor smiled to himself as he stormed off away from the battle. _“Fuck the Kingsguard, fuck the city, fuck the king_ ,” he had waited a long time to say that; the shocked faces of Lord Tyrion and King Joffery made the wait well worth it. He knew he needed to leave the city and get as far away as possible. If somehow Joffery’s army won he would be killed for being a traitor and abandoning his post. If Stannis won, he would be killed for being a Lannister swordsman. He didn’t like this city anyway. 

He needed to grab a few things from his room before he left, luckily he didn’t own many personal things or items of value so packing wouldn’t take long. As he stumbled down the halls he came across the corridor that led to her room. He hadn’t planned on seeking her out initially, but he figured if he was going to be on the run and this would be the last time he would potentially lay eyes on her, then it was worth the detour. 

Taking a quaff of the wineskin he swiped from the battlefield, Sandor took to the corridor in long strides eager to get to the end of the hall. He reached the door and after somewhat composing himself he knocked on the door. No response. Maybe she isn’t here, he frowned at this disappointed he may not get to see her. But then a thought came to mind, _what if she’s in trouble and cannot respond? Of course, you would think of any reason just to get near her._ He smirked at his foolishness. He knocked again only this time he tried the doorknob and gently pushed on the door, “little bird?” he called out searching the room. 

Filled with disappointment upon realizing it was empty, he pushed the doorway open fully to inspect the room. It was pristine, everything in its proper place- it was as if this were a showroom not a bedroom. _The little bird is a prisoner to Lions, scarcely call that living_ . He made his way to her bedside; sinking into the feather bed exhaustion hit him like a brick wall. He laid his head on her pillows engulfed by her scent and perfumes. _If I died here, I would hardly call that a crime._ His mind drifted off thinking about his little bird when tranquil sleep took him.

* * * * *

Sansa had just left the Queen’s ballroom and was now running toward her own. Leaving the ladies to an uncertain future only made her stomach clench for what her own unknown held. She wanted to be brave, but with the lions around her faltering what chances did she have with the city under siege. Lord Tyrion had asked her if she wanted to leave, and she declined his offer convinced if she played the part things would somehow work out. _Gods was I ever more wrong_. If she stayed and Stannis won, her fate would be uncertain- that is if she even met Stannis before his men got to her first. If the Lannisters won, she would be dead by morning if not tormented for a few days before imminent death.

She could only kick herself for such a stupid decision for so long. At present everyone was afraid; no one cared about the daughter of a traitor when the city was literally melting in green flames. Shae took this as a chance to convince her now was the time to leave- in all the chaos to slip away right under the lion's noses. Sansa was hesitant at first, but with the growing of screams and explosions, she agreed and hastily made her exit from the women who had gathered together. 

Sansa made her way as quickly as she could around the stairs and through the halls, her lungs burning as she gasped for air. As she rounded a corner she collided with a knight who was making off with a sack of valuables he had taken and swiftly collected the fallen loot making his exit. Sansa continued on till she caught sight of her bedroom door. Relief flooded her as the promise of solace was ever so close. As quickly as her hand was on the handle she rushed inside shutting the door behind her. 

She took a moment to catch her breath before turning to the window had sparing scant light escaping from the curtains of her window. A mixture of curiosity and fear urged her to the window throwing the curtains open. “What hell is this?” Sansa stared in awe of the sight before her. Green flames and eerie smoke filled the skies, the screams of the dying filled the air, the clashing of steel rang in the distance. Hope of escape was starting to wane. Her fate was sealed.

She heard something creak and shuffle behind her when suddenly a hand reached out through the darkness and firmly grabbed her arm. In a panic, she turned to strike her assailant but her grabbed her other arm before she could swing at him. Fear stole her voice, no words formed on her lips. Due to fear of the inevitable or having given up entirely she was unsure. She only wished it wouldn’t take long. 

“Little bird you’ve come at last,” the man rasped, his breath was filled with the smell of wine. Sansa near laughed in relief that the man before her was not from Stannis’ army or a rogue man of the Lannisters, but rather the Hound. Her relief disappeared when a flash of light lit up the room temporarily revealing the giant man who held her in his grasp. His armor was tinged with red streaks and his face was covered in sweat and blood. The smell of battle overwhelmed her senses nearly causing her to take a step back, but he held her firm. He pulled her closer to him, his large form looming over her, “still afraid of me girl?”

Sansa shook her head, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Sandor laughed, _the little bird still remembers her courtesies even in the thick of a siege._ “Came to check on the little bird, the city will fall and soon Stannis’ men will storm the keep.” 

His words were so calm, yet there was something in his voice that made Sansa believe there was a tinge of fear. _If the Hound is afraid, what hope do I have?_

“I’m leaving,” he said flatly, more occupied with taking her in for what he perceives will be the last time.

“Where will you go?”

“Away from fire, away from smoke,” his words were cold yet resolved. Sansa looked up and saw his gaze went to the window beyond the green flames, aways away. Sansa struggling in his grip brought his eyes back to her. “You promised me a song, girl”

“A song?” She looked up at him confused.

“Yes, chirp away, little bird,” he smirked waiting.

“You’re hurting me,” Sansa whimpered. She did not think it at all possible for his grip to get any tighter, but it did. Sansa arched into his grip the pain nearly making her squeal.

“Look at me!” he snarled. Sansa bit her lip, trying to keep her tears at bay, but met his fierce grey eyes. So much anger and such great sadness lurked behind them. Sansa did not feel pity for the man everyone called the Hound, but rather the desire to comfort him. Over the years since her being in King’s Landing, their interactions were usually brief and sometimes tantalizing. He did things to scare her, even sneered harsh words at her stupid fantasies, but there was something else- something more guarded. It only came out ever so often, but she could see it, the only word that came to mind was wistful... 

“I can keep you safe,” His words brought her back to the present. “They’re all afraid of me. No one will hurt you again, or I’d kill them,” He was so close now, his face mere inches from her own. If it was possible to feel comfort and fear at the same time, Sansa felt both. Fear because this angry man had nothing to lose, blood lust filled his eyes and his love for killing was high. Comfort because a small part of her knew the Hound had always protected her when he could and was the closest thing to an ally since she had been a prisoner among the Lannisters. He was mean and sometimes harsh towards her, but at the end of the day he came to her aide when she needed it. And for that she was grateful.

“You won’t hurt me,” Sansa’s words more of a statement than a question her eyes transfixed on his.

Sandor’s eyes softened, “no little bird I won’t hurt you,” he released his grip on her. Sansa fought the urge to rub her sore arms but instead reached up to touch his blood-caked scarred face. He stiffened at first not expecting her touch, but accepted it as she traced her fingers along his jawline. He just watched her, but her eyes were set on the scars that were visible but for a moment in the green flashes of light from outside. 

She wasn’t repulsed or held in a horrified fascination by his scars, to his surprise. There was kindness there, the innocence he had chastised her for years still remained. It’s as if she has no memory that I ever did wrong by her. He stood there mesmerized this woman- this woman who was forced to grow up fast just as he had to all those years ago. His thoughts began to drift when an ethereal voice filled the dark room:

_Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_

_save our sons from war, we pray,_

_stay the swords and stay the arrows,_

_let them know a better day._

_Gentle Mother, strength of women,_

_help our daughters through this fray,_

_soothe the wrath and tame the fury,_

_teach us all a kinder way._

Sansa’s voice faded with the last verse, her eyes searching his for a response. Sandor had closed his eyes, for a moment he seemed to have calmed; she could’ve sworn she even felt Sandor lean forward into her. Sansa raised her other hand to hold his face. When the flashes of light illuminated the room, she could see the runaway tears on his cheeks. _Poor Sandor, he must be so exhausted._

“Yes,” she whispered.

Sandor opened his eyes looking down at her confused, “what?”

“Please take me with you,” Sansa tried to keep her voice even. She was hoping Sandor truly meant to ask her to come with him and that it wasn’t some empty drunken request. 

Sandor stepped back sinking into the bed shocked. _I must be piss drunk- she said yes??_ Sandor shook his head.

Sansa’s heart sank, “didn’t you mean it when you asked me?”

“Of course I did, just didn’t think you would agree,” he admitted. _Well dog, you don’t ask you don’t get._

There was a knock on her door. Sandor jumped up from the bedside and instinctively drew his long sword pullingSansa behind him protectively. The door slowly opened revealing Shae who quickly slid in and shut the door behind her. She turned around and nearly jumped at the sight of the hound. Her hand immediately went to her hidden dagger. 

“What are you doing here? Where’s Lady Sansa?” She demanded. 

Sandor chuckled lowering his sword, “brave little whore,”

“Shae,” Sansa called out from behind the big man. Shae sidestepped to peer behind Sandor and saw Sansa smiling at her. Shae smiles back but was quite confused. 

“Why are you here and not fighting?” 

“The city is burning, there’s nothing to protect anymore,” 

“But the king-”

“Fuck the king!” Sandor snapped

Shae’s eyes widened at that. She looked at Sansa for some answers. 

“Sandor has asked me to leave King’s Landing with him, he said he would take me north back to Winterfell.” Sansa was excited though she knew better than to get her hopes up. 

“I see,” Shae said skeptically looking back at Sandor. “Why does the hound want to help a Stark?”

“Why does the whore interrogate an armed man” Sandor snarled. He was growing weary of her questions. 

“I am concerned for Lady Sansa’s well being,” Shae returned his intensity, not being intimidated by the big man. “ the men of King’s Landing always tend to have ulterior motives and violence is never too far away,” her thick accent did nothing to hide her irritation. 

“It’s too dangerous for her here. She needs to flee and I’m already going,” Sandor tried to soften his tone but was getting edgy from time being wasted. 

Shae senses his urgency. “It appears there isn’t much choice.” Shae cast him a final glance before turning to Sansa, “ I’ll help you pack,” Shae started to walk around Sandor, but he grabbed her arm. 

“We travel light, only the essentials,” he urged.

Shae nodded stepping forward, but Sandor held her firm, “We will be on the road, she will need _appropriate_ clothes,” his emphasis on appropriate to help her understand he was taking every precaution. Sensing she got the message he let her go. 

“I must pick up a few things, I’ll be back shortly. Lock the door” Sandor made his way to exit. “don’t open for anyone but me,” and with that, he departed. Shae set the lock before going to her wardrobe looking for appropriate dresses to stow in her bag. There was no need for elegant gowns since she would be traveling in more rural areas in the countryside, _no need to draw unnecessary attention_. Shae pulled out simpler gowns that were still flattering yet didn’t draw too much attention and most importantly without the assistance of a maid.

She pulled out a blue gown and saw Lady Sansa had added her own embellishments to it, she had embroidered a small silver wolf on the bodice. Shae smiled, _my Lady has such great talent_ , There were several dresses that bore the same simple design with differing embellishments, and these were the dresses Shae packed. _Travel light he says, clearly he’s never traveled with a woman before._

Sansa had turned to her dresser and started to rummage through the things she thought were important enough to pack. _What does one bring to run away in the middle of the night? I don’t care to bring anything that holds memories to this terrible place. But there is one thing, I absolutely must bring..._

Sansa knelt in front of a chest that sat on the side of her room. Pushing some dresses aside her eyes lit up upon finding what she was searching for. She pulled out the large white cloak from the chest and marveled at it for a second. Realizing she was not along she quickly tried to shove it in her bag, but not before it caught Shae’s eye, “What is that?” She asked looking over her shoulder.

Sansa’s ears started to turn bright pink, “uh-uh, winter is coming and it would be foolish not to pack layers,” she stammered. _Stupid idiot._

Shae reached over the bashful girl and opened the cloak revealing the King’s guard sigil, Shae looked at Sansa again who was now turning red in the face. 

“This belongs to a King's guard. Who gave you-“ Shae pulled out the enormous cloak allowing it to fully unfold revealing a lengthy garb. _This is quite long for a guard. No one is tall enough to wear this save_ \- “You have the Hounds cloak?” A smile formed at the corner of her lips. _Of course, now this all makes sense. He must have a soft spot for the little wolf. Well he is a canine after all._

“Oh gods,” Sansa’s face now aflame fell into her hands. _Here I’m worried about Joffery killing me, I’ll die of humiliation before that._

“It is nothing to be ashamed of my lady,” Shae smirked reaching over to console her. “You are a woman now, and a man may find himself attracted to such a fair maiden,”

“I’m not ashamed,” Sansa retorted, her cheeks a bright hue of red. “He was the only one who would protect me from the other knights,” Sansa needed to dismiss any ideas of any floating feelings about the two. She didn’t want rumors to start unnecessarily despite the _lies_ potentially being half true. But now she was defending a man whose cloak she had stashed away. _Keep piling it on-bury yourself alive why don’t you_.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, I understand.” Shae rubbed her arm kindly. Folding the cloak to return it to her bag, “all the same, I think it is very kind of him to offer you protection while on the road.” _You may not understand those feelings Lady Sansa, but I know that look. You’ll understand soon enough_. “Are you almost finished?” 

“Yes, just a few small things,” Sansa grabbed her hairbrush and comb. The doll her father gave her before he was killed caught her eye. She picked it up smoothing the doll's hair and dress. _I’m so sorry father, I never did thank you for the beautiful gift. I was so angry about losing Lady._ Sansa kissed the doll before setting it down on the dresser. She wanted to bring it with her but knew if anyone came in looking for her and saw the doll missing, their pursuit of her was imminent.

Shae grabbed the necessities she would require to tend to her womanly needs as well. As she rapidly packed the bag Shae began instructing her with essentials, “You are a woman now, you must use caution. If you are attacked and raped you must seek out moon tea to keep from growing heavy with child.” Shae warned, looking at Sansa shift uneasily she clarified, “ I trust the Hound will not harm you, but if something happens to him and he cannot protect you need to remember this, understand?” 

Sansa nodded. Shae rambled on about how to protect herself with the small dagger she had tucked inside of her dress and to listen more than speak when among strangers. She knew Shae meant well, but everything was happening so fast. 

There was a loud knock on the door, Sansa and Shae froze, “it’s me,” the voice rasped. Shae hurried to open the door. Sandor stepped in scanning the room for her packed belongings, “Are you ready?”

Sansa nodded. Shae grabbed the bag, “here take her I’ll meet you by the stables,” Shae grabbed Sansa’s pack and dashed out the door down the hall.

“Where is she going?” Sansa asked watching her dear friend and maid leave in a hurry.

“Hopefully to fetch the rest,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s go,” he ushered her out of the room and into the hall. 

* * * * *

The Keep was vast but for some reason, the halls seemed quite longer than she remembered. She definitely never attempted to cover this much ground in one trip, and her legs were evidence enough as they started to fatigue and cramp. Sansa tried desperately to keep up with Sandor’s strides, but she ended up having to grab a handful of her skirt to free up her steps. She was almost running to stay within reach of Sandor.

Sandor looked over his shoulder, “stay close little bird,”. It almost looked as if he picked up the pace ever so slightly.

_I’m trying_ she sighed. Sansa wasn’t used to walking at such a brisk pace for this long. She tried to keep her huffing low, but her corset made breathing difficult. Despite her efforts to cover her breathing, Sandor heard her struggle. He was about to offer to carry her when he heard metal clanking ahead of him. He looked forward and saw two men standing in the doorway. They were both armed and wore the Baratheon sigil. Looking them over, he knew they were no true threat. They both wore ill-fitting armor and appeared to have little to no training. One was tall and skinny, while the other was more average height but plumper. T _hat’s what this war has reduced these great houses to- relying on the town folk to take up arms and fight real soldiers with promises of fame and fortune_. Sandor shook his head disgusted. 

“Stay behind me,” Sandor cautioned taking his greatsword in two hands, Sansa obeyed nearly holding her breath in anticipation. She didn’t fear Sandor would fall to these men, she knew he was one of the most skilled swordsmen in all of Westeros, but worry she did. _Please be careful._

“Whatcha got there,” the shorter soldier started to approach them, but Sandor raised his sword upright keeping him at bay.

“Pretty lil thing,” the tall man said licking his lips as he stepped wide to get a look at Sansa, drawing a growl from Sandor. 

“Just give us the girl and you can keep you ugly arse alive,” the shorter man said pulling on the front of his pants. Sansa’s stomach turned.

“Bugger off!” Sandor snapped, his blood lust pushing the cusp of his restraint. He hated how vulgar men spoke of his little bird. _Bloody cut them down the bastards!_

“A man doesn’t want to share,” the tall man laughed nudging his comrade. Now looking back at Sandor, “guess we’ll just kill you and fuck her good then,” drawing his sword. Sandor all but bridled his rage. They would die for speaking of her with such insolence.

The tall man raised his sword lunging towards Sandor. His swing was sloppy and Sandor easily avoided the blade with a mere sidestep. _Too easy_. Irritated by the lack of challenge Sandor thrust his blade through the soldier's side and ripped his blade through. The man let out a shriek as he crumbled to the floor. The short man foolishly charged at Sandor eager to avenge his comrade. 

Sandor deflected the sword causing him to lose his balance. As the man fell forward Sandor pulled his blade back severing his head from his shoulders. The corpse fell before him.

Sandor tried to control his breathing, he could feel fresh blood twinkle down his brow though he did not know if it was his or his slain enemy’s. His blood lust setting his heart pounding in his chest demanding more. But he calmed his thirst realizing she stood behind him.

He turned to gage her response. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly opened. He motioned for Sansa to follow, but she didn't move- he assumed she was frozen with fear. _Fuck I’ve scarred the little bird._

“Little bird,” He took a step towards her but she stepped back. He paused before continuing. “It’s alright, I won’t hurt you,” he assured her extending an arm out to her. She hesitated at first before reaching out to take his hand and pulling herself into his body. She wrapped her arms around him almost painfully pressing her body into his armor. _Thank you, Sandor, for always protecting me._

Sandor was stunned, he hadn’t expected her to respond with this sort of gratitude. _She must be terrified_. He frowned. As much as he hated how hopelessly enamored she was with knights and fair maidens living a happy life, he didn’t want her to completely give in to the fear of violence and cruelty that the world offered in turn. He just wanted her to wake up and see the world for what it really was- a dangerous place. More often than not the pretty faces are the ones who lied and broke vows while the outcasts and lesser folk were honest and true. But in all this, he didn’t want to lose her trust or for her to be afraid of him. 

Gently he pulled away from her, “we must go,” he beckoned. Sansa Iooked up at him, the blood from his armor was smeared on her face and dress. Sansa nodded, Sandor placed a hand on the small of her back guiding her out of the corridor. They made it through the halls without further incident until they were outside.

They made it to the courtyard that led to the stables when suddenly a loud bang brought with it a handful of soldier's charging into the courtyard.

“Get to Stranger!” Sandor yelled assuming his fighting stance securing his great sword. Sansa is quick to obey and rushes over to the stables. _Gods help us!_

With Stranger in sight, Sansa feels a tinge of relief, almost there. As she is but a few paces from the stable building, there is a sharp pain on her head. She lets out a painful yelp.

“Where’re you going lovey?” A soldier had grabbed a fistful of her hair and began pulling her away from the stables.

Sansa grabbed the base of the entangled locks and another fistful above that shrieking in pain and horror. “Let go-let go of my hair!” She was trying desperately to break free from his grasp. 

The man laughed as he pulled her towards himself.

Sandor looked over and saw Sansa in distress. He cut down the man in front of him and stormed over to her struggle. Sansa's pleas were drowned out by the soldier's laughter as he pulled her towards him.

“Such beautiful red locks.” the man was petting the loose strands in his free hand admiring the flame of tresses before him. 

But his laughter was cut short, he did not hear Sandor approaching them. Sandor's hand covered Sansa’s when a gleam of steel caught the reflection of green fire and in an instant, Sansa fell back on her bum finally free. She looked up, the soldier had a handful of her hair in his hands. Sandor took his dagger and slashed him across the throat.

Sansa's hand went up to the frayed ends of her cropped hair, her mouth hanging open mouthing “my hair.... you cut my hair-”

“Let’s go” Sandor said pulling her to her feet. he pulled her to the end of the stables to where Stranger stood impatient.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa must come to terms with what it means to survive beyond the highborn life as she is now on the run. The adjustments seem overwhelming, but of course her protector deems them necessary or her survival.

Sansa's hand remained on her head, tears filled her eyes. “How dare you! You cut my hair!” Anger and disbelief blinded her to her surroundings. She stared at her severed locks that lay in a clump on the ground.

“Aye, I did. It was either let him drag you away or cut you loose.” He snapped. Performing a final check on the saddlebags. He moved to pick her up, but she pulled away. He grabbed her wrist overpowering her tantrum and objection. He shook her hard.

“Dammit girl! “ his voice boomed over her. Sansa jumped suddenly feeling very small. “More soldiers are coming. Joffrey and his men are occupied right now, we need to leave.” Sansa gave a slight nod deciding the time to discuss her sudden alterations was not at hand and would be best kept for later. 

Bolting around the corner, Shae appeared with the final bag. “What the hell took so long?” Sandor scowled

“I’m sorry, I had to go around Stannis’s soldiers,” Shae handed the bag to Sandor to put on Stranger then looked at Sansa, her jaw dropped, “Lady Sansa, your hair- what happened-”

“We don’t have time for this,” Sandor cut in, eager to depart. His hands engulfed Sansa’s small waist as he raised her onto the saddle. He led Stranger out of the stables then joined her atop the saddle.

“Take care of her Hound, or it’s me who will be coming after you,” Shae warned. 

Sandor laughed, “whoever takes her will have to kill me first.” He spurred Stranger forward and into the city they went.

* * * * *

As they made their way through the streets Sandor looked around for foot soldiers, but the path they were on seemed eerily clear. He leaned forward speaking into her ear, “Pull your hood up and cover your hair.” Sansa did not hesitate to comply, eager to hide her distressed locks. To both of their surprises, they passed through the gates uninhibited. Sandor frowned searching the terraces for men who were hiding. But he saw none. Confident they weren’t spotted making their escape, Sandor kicked his heels into Strangers sides and set off in a gallop away for the burning city.

* * * * * 

Morning couldn’t come soon enough Sansa was sore from sitting sideways and twisting her body funny as they rode through the night. Her back was stiff and ached. Sandor only slowed their pace when he felt they were a safe distance, and even then he found a reclusive spot in the woods away from the road.

They stopped by a creek to give Stranger a bit of respite and graze. Sansa was parched, so when Sandor climbed off and helped her down she immediately went straight to the stream. She knelt down by the edge of the water, cupping her hands to drink when she noticed her reflection. It was worse than she thought. Not only was a significant chunk missing but it was lopsided. The shortest lock was just above her shoulder as the rest of the jagged cut faded back and up at her shoulder blade Then the untouched hair fell the length of her back in her signature tresses.

She stared at her reflection mortified. Her hand absently stroking the missing pieces. Tears started to fill her eyes. _My beautiful hair- is their anything more the Lannisters will take from me?_

Sandor had finished with Stranger and was now headed to the stream to wash the grit of battle off. As he approached the creek’s edge he saw Sansa kneeling with her head drooping and her fingers running through her hair. He could tell this was gonna be bad.

Through the night he replayed the incident in his head over and over to see if there was another way that he could have handled the situation. He honestly believed he did what was necessary for their escape. To convince her of that was another story. The closer he got the worse it was. _Gods I fucked up bad. No wonder the little bird is angry._

Sandor reached the edge of the creek and knelt down to wash his hands and face. Sansa did not move. Sandor's lip twitched. He expected her to blow up on him again like she did last night. He peaked from the corner of his eye and saw her staring at her reflection. Sandor swallowed hard. _Say something girl..._

“Is the little birds' feathers ruffled up?” he tried to sound indifferent.

Sansa’s fingers ran the length of the shorter strands, falling unsatisfied from the new tips. She didn’t sense the usual rudeness in his words. It seemed like concern with a smidge of regret. Without looking up from the water Sansa replied, “I’m missing a lot of my feathers,”

Sandor truly felt sorry for the little bird. He knew her red hair was a crown of its own, better than what Joffery could have offered her as his Queen. Her hair stood out in a crowd and framed a beauty unmatched. The jewel of the north and he had single-handedly butchered her pride. Eager to change her spirits so she wouldn’t linger on her sorrow, Sandor piped up.

“Well it’s for the best, you can’t go about on the road with hair as memorable as that anyways,”

Sansa looked up at him confused.

“Your hair is easy to pick out in a crowd little bird. Makes you an easy target. We have to alter your appearance.”

“I believe you have already done that,” Sansa pouted turning her gaze back to the water.

“Yes well, there’s still more to be done.” Sandor rose from the edge of the creek and headed towards their makeshift camp. _Hopefully Shae packed what I asked her to._

Sandor returned to where Sansa sat and tossed her a small bundle, “here, put these on.”

Sansa hesitantly unfolded the bundle examining the contents. She wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “What is this?”

“Your clothes from now on,”

“Absolutely not! I can’t wear men’s clothes-I am a lady!” Sansa rolled the clothes up in a ball throwing them back at Sandor. 

Sandor swatted them down, his patience wearing thin. “That wasn’t a request little bird,”

“I can’t wear that-”

“Why not?”

“Because it would be improper. Why can’t I wear a dress instead,” 

“Because little boys don’t wear dresses or skirts,” he snarled through clenched teeth.

“I’m not a little boy-“

“You are now!” Sandor's voice boomed over her objection. Her eyes widened. He snatched the clothes off the ground and knelt in front of Sansa waving the clothes in her face.

“I swore I to keep you safe, and I will, but it’ll make my job much easier if you don’t make yourself an unnecessary target to the scum we may meet on the road.” He paused seeing the understanding come over her as her cheeks turned a bright red, her eyes lowered from view. _Of course, you hadn’t considered that little bird._

“I’m sorry Sandor, I don’t mean to be difficult. I hadn’t thought of that,” she whispered. Sandor sat back on his heels, his muscles relieved of rigid tension. Sandor didn’t want to be harsh about this, he knew this was a difficult adjustment for such a high born lady, but he needed her to understand she was no longer behind palace walls where courtesies and guards roamed the halls protecting her. She was in the real world with lots of bad people who would do unspeakable things to beautiful young maidens. _Yes, beautiful_. Sandor pushed the ominous thoughts away.

“It’s for your safety little bird. Trust me I’m not trying to make you something you’re not, it’d be a waste of your beauty.”

Sansa still unable to meet his gaze blushed at the odd compliment.

“It’s getting late, we best be off soon. Change so we can get back on the road,”

Sandor got up and walked back to prepare to leave.

Sansa walked over to a cluster of trees for what little privacy she could find and began undressing. She hadn’t gotten far when she realized she couldn’t get the corset off without help. In their rush to leave, Shae wasn’t able to to help remove it. Sansa twisted and contorted her body trying to reach for the strings but to no avail. _Why can’t I catch a break_ , she sighed.

Sandor had packed up their saddlebags and prepared Stranger for departure. _What’s taking her so long?_ Sandor looked up at the sky squinting, they only had a few hours before midday. _Seven hells girl!_ Sandor stormed over to the trees. “We best be off-“Sandor never finished his sentence. Just as he rounded the trees he stumbled onto a curious scene. Sansa was in a losing wrestling match with her gown. She had managed to free up on arm after stretching the neckline over her shoulder, but that was about all the progress she made. She looked as if tears were almost upon her in frustration at her lack of progress. “Gods! What the fuck are you doing?”

“What does it look like,” Sansa retorted embarrassed. _I must look horribly ridiculous._

“Looks like your losing a battle,” Sandor chuckled. He liked to see the little bird flustered and helpless, but only when she wasn’t being tortured by Joffrey.

Sansa dropped her arms in defeat. “I need help with my corset,” Sansa said biting her lip. Sandor stiffened. He had never taken a corset off a woman before, but he had seen it done. Plenty of times when Cersei had called upon him to wait on her as she was preparing for the day in her chambers. Her servants hustled about getting her breakfast, getting her dressed, doing her hair and more. Quite frankly he had never thought any woman would’ve asked him to do such an intimate thing, and not just any woman, a highborn lady at that.

Sandor looked at her even when she couldn’t hold his gaze anymore and turned away presenting her back to him. Sandor walked up behind her. She swept her hair over her right shoulder, giving him full access to her back. Her neck, pale and fair, was revealed from behind the curtain of beautiful strands of fire. Sandor's throat was dry.

Sansa began giving him step by step instructions on how to unlace the corset and bodice but her voice disappeared into thin air as Sandor was completely distracted by his view and touch. His big hands and fingers fumbled over the delicate laces trying to loosen her from her prison. As the bodice loosened he did notice Sansa catch her breath. It was almost as if she wasn’t able to fully breathe until the corset had full slack releasing its death grip on her ribs.

“Thank you,” Sansa said politely, looking over her shoulder her cheeks flushed, feeling vulnerable.

“Do you need help with anything else?”

“No,” giving a curt response she turned to face him in a dismissive manner. “I’ll be alright, but thank you,” Sandor took a step back then stopped, he pulled a roll of cloth from his belt handing it over. 

“What is this for?” Sansa asked holding up the roll of cloth in her hands puzzled.

“Men don’t have tits,” Sandor stated rather flat.

“I have to...”

“Do you need help?” He raised a brow, the corner of is lip raise in a slight smile.

“Uh-no I think can manage,” Sansas face now tomato red. Sandor chuckled at her blush and turned to give her a little privacy. 

Confident he wouldn’t turn again Sansa made quick work of removing the rest of the dress and threw her new pants on. Unrolling the cloth, she pinched the end under her arm as she began wrapping it around her chest. 

Sandor turned his head just enough to catch of glimpse of her at work. “Make sure it’s secure, don’t want to give yourself away,”

“Turn around!” She demanded. Sandor laughed. 

“Little bird, best get use to being less prude on the road. You’ll see much more than you did while in court,” 

“I suppose next I’ll have to stuff my pants,” Sansa mumbled under her breath as she wrapped the wool around her chest.

Sandor threw his head back laughing. “Does the little bird want a big cock too?”

Sansa’s face now bright red, she didn’t mean for him to hear her. Completely flustered, Sansa closed up her shirt and grabbed her old clothes before storming off past Sandor.

Sandor watched her speed walk towards Stranger not making eye contact with him. He laughed to himself, _Little bird is in for a rude awakening_. Shaking his head he followed behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the delay. Crazy busy summer. I've been itching to get back to this story. This chapter is addressing some loose ends from Kings Landing.

Shae paced anxiously about her lover’s room. She wrung her fingers painfully with worry. The sudden turn of the handle startled her, and she froze. _I’m losing it. I should’ve been listening for people-_ _I can’t be seen here!_ Fear crept over her as the door slowly opened. She sighed in relief when she saw Bronn peak through the doorway before slipping in and quietly shutting the door behind him.

  
“Where have you been?” Shae demanded impatiently.

  
“Where every other man who values his life has been, fighting.” Bronn made for a chair by the hearth and collapsed exhausted in its frame.  
“Where is Lord Tyrion?” there was notable worry in her voice.

  
“He’ll be along shortly,” Bronn shifted in his seat to lean forward. “The better question is, where is your lady Sansa?”

***

  
“This twice damned city will live to see another day,” Tyrion chuckled. “Surviving terrible rulers and flames would make for an excellent song. ‘Lions, stags, and flames o my”

  
“As interesting as that subject is, we have pressing matters.” his eyes remained on Shae.

  
Tyrion followed his eyes and looked between Shae and him, “what have I missed?”

  
“Lady Sansa is, missing?” Bronn looked at Shae near accusingly.

  
Tyrion’s jaw dropped, “what do you mean she’s missing?” he looked at Shae confused. “What happened?”

  
Shae cursed in Lothrathi. “The city was burning, what was I suppose to do? We wanted her to escape-”

  
“Yes, but we needed a plan to ensure her a safe escape,” Tyrion groaned through clenched teeth.

  
“I don’t know how safe the poor girl is,” Bronn shifted in his seat to pull something out of his pants pocket. He revealed a small bundle of copper-colored locks. Tyrion’s eyes bulged wide.

  
“Good gods is she… how did you come by that?”

  
“I found it on the ground near a corpse of one of Stannis’ soldiers near the stables. I’m assuming Lady Sansa was making a run for the stables when she was attacked, but if she survived or was taken who knows…”

  
“Are you done spinning tales of things you don’t know?” Shae’s hands were balled into fists and shaking at her side. “We agreed she needed to leave before it was too late. I saw a chance for her to escape, so I helped her with the Hound.”

  
Bronn and Tyrion exchanged looks, “what?”

  
“You heard me, she left with the Hound,”

  
“Please tell me I missed something.” Tyrion pinched the bridge of his nose. “The King’s former shield who became craven within these last hours has suddenly become a hero and rescued Lady Sansa from a burning city?”

  
“Yes,” Shae replied like the answer was obvious, but her eyes conveyed worry. _I had no idea he abandoned his post. I hope I did right by Lady Sansa..._

  
“Darling,” Tyrion walked over and took her hand in his. He looked up at her with such sadness and melancholy, for a moment, Shae doubted her judgment. “You’ve condemned her,” there were almost tears in his voice. “The Hound is a dangerous man- a notoriously violent killer. She doesn’t stand a chance against him.”

  
Shae scoffed shrugging his worry, “men know nothing, but women do.”  
“What do you know?” Bronn taunted, crossing his arms over his chest eager to hear her retort.

  
“I know he has never hurt Lady Sansa. I know he was her only hope at escaping and he can protect her. And,” Shae smiled. “I know she trusts him.”

  
“Do you know what you did,” Bronn stood up pointing angrily at Shae. “you served a little duckling up to a starved dog, she’s as good as dead if not worse.” His jaw was in a fierce snarl.

  
Shae hissed in Lothrathi when Tyrion rushed between them to diffuse the animosity.

  
“Shae,” Tyrion’s voice was quiet and pleading. Shae looked down at him. “How do you know she will be safe?”

  
Shae gave him a soft smile and squeezing his hand, led him to sit beside Bronn as she shared what happened only hours before.

***

“...when I got to the stables, I gave the Hound her bag. I looked at her, her hair was already cut.”

  
“Ole boy must have attacked her before Clegane got the better of him,” Bronn concluded.

  
“But why was Clegane in her room in the first place?” Bronn’s brow furrowed.

  
“I cannot say for certain, but I know Lady Sansa was not at all alarmed by his presence. I was afraid of her judgment till I saw the cloak.”

  
“Cloak? What Cloak?” Tyrion scrunched his eyes confused.

  
“She has one of his white cloaks. I think she is fond of him,”

  
“Gods,” Tyrion’s head sank into his hands. “the Starks will haunt us from the grave. Joffery has beat and torments the poor girl so bad she brain-damaged. What could possibly possess her to have any fondness for Clegane?”

  
“We don’t choose who we fall for my little Lion,” Shae’s voice wafted into the crackle of flames.

Tyrion rose from his seat and made his way towards the hearth. He was trying to work out scenarios and possibilities to help with covering for the eldest Stark girl’s disappearance when a detail came to the forefront of his mind and turned his blood cold. “Her hair,” his voice was hoarse. “Who else knows she’s gone? If you found her hair surely others will know.”

  
“I burned it,” Bronn’s eyes were set on the flames.

  
Shae and Tyrion looked at him. “I didn’t know if she escaped, was kidnapped or killed, but I didn’t want anyone snooping around for her.” Bronn fiddled with the copper lock in his fingers. “I hope for her sake this was the right choice. The Hound, that’s a big fucker- a handful for me, and Gods, he might as well be the Stranger himself with that lil girl,” he tossed the locks into the flames.

  
“Shae,” Tyrion’s voice was quizzical. “What was in that bag you packed for Lady Sansa?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this answered some concerns. Why is Bronn so angry...??
> 
> Moving on to the get back to Sandor's new charge, "Not-Sansa" and her newly assumed identity!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds her fangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, I am terribly sorry for my absence. Sliding has truly gotten the best of me. But I wanted to make sure I started the year off right and got this out for all. I hope you enjoy the update.

They road north for the rest of the day. Sandor knew however they would have to put some distance between them and the Kingsroad, in favor of disappearing from the impending search parties. _This well may be the furthest we can take this path. Probably should start heading east, maybe to Maiden Pool..._

Sandor pulled on Stranger’s reigns to take him off the road and into the dense forest. The sun was setting and what precious light they had was quickly depleting. They needed to get settled for the night. He eyed a small clearing that was hidden from the road and was lined with bushes to protect from the potential night winds.

When they finally stop to make camp, Sansa thanked all the gods for granting her mercy and ceased their travel. Her whole body ached. Sandor had her ride Stranger straddled, so her hips were sore and her back throbbed. Sandor dismounted Stranger unphased and reached up to help Sansa down. She winced as he pulled her stiff body off the saddle. He tried to set her on the ground, but her legs refused to support her properly.

“Steady little bird,” he rasped.

“I’m sorry,” Sansa blushed embarrassed. “Everything hurts, I’ve never ridden like that before,”

“Best get used to it. Men don’t ride side-saddle,” He started to pull the packs off of Stranger.

Sansa scrunched her face at the foreseeable pain but nodded in agreement. She started to waddle over to a fallen tree to take a seat, but before she could lean down,

  
“We need to collect some firewood,”

Sansa cast him a look over her shoulder in disbelief, “right now?” she winced.

“Yes before it gets too dark to find any. There won’t be many nights we will be able to use a fire, best to take advantage while we have the chance.  
Sansa groaned, “I can’t move, I’m too sore.”

Sandor walked over to where she stood and dropped the saddlebags, “Rule number one, boys do as they’re told,”

  
“I’m not a boy,” she looked up at him defiantly.

“Yes you are,” he turned to head back to Stranger and pulled the bedrolls. “from now on your name is Sam,”

  
“Sam?! Why Sam?”

His patience was wearing thin. “It’s close enough to your real name that if I make a slip I might be able to catch it or get away with it.” he said through clenched teeth.

  
“I don’t like Sam, I don’t look like a Sam,” she pouted turning her back on him.

He had had enough, he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. His grip nearly made her cry out in pain, but the look in his eyes kept her quiet. He had nearly lifted her off the ground bringing her face inches from his. “if you don’t want to eat raw woodland creatures, you’ll get the damn wood for a bloody fire,” he growled.

Sansa knew she was being difficult, but just like him, she had had enough. Enough of the beatings, bullying, lies, deceit and having to play this stupid game. She just wanted to be herself for once, but the Hound was gonna take that from her. _Well, I guess he already has_ , thinking about her butchered locks. _But that doesn’t mean he has to be so hateful._

Sandor took her silence as stubborn defiance and his grip tightened. Sansa yelped and without warning brought a hand across his unmarred side. While her strike did catch him off guard, he did not release his grip. He looked into her eyes, and surprisingly Sansa held his gaze. When he saw she held her ground and did not cower he straightened his body, standing to his full height. “So, the Little Bird has talons,” He finally released his grip and returned to tending to Stranger.

  
Sansa watched him resume his duties. A wave of guilt and shame nearly brought her to her knees. She knew he shouldn’t have squeezed her arm as he did, but as a highborn lady striking anyone was beneath her. Her lip trembled, _I’m losing it_. She looked to the west and saw the sun rays disappearing over the trees and hills in the distance. With a sigh, Sansa strolled into the trees at the edge of the clearing to grab wood.

* * *

Having lost track of time, Sansa made her way back to the campsite with what she deemed was an adequate bundle of firewood. Since she had never tended a fire in the woods, she had no idea of how much or what kind of wood was necessary to keep it alive. When she arrived, Sandor was nowhere in sight. Panic nearly took her, making her believe she was abandoned had she not seen Stranger grazing at the edge of the clearing and the pile of armor by the fallen tree. She spun around looking for signs of his return, but with the impending darkness, she couldn’t see much of anything around her clearly. She wanted to call for him but hesitated, unsure if breaking the ominous silence was a good idea. She had no idea if she was alone in the woods or if danger lurked nearby. She shifted the bundle in her arms unsure of what to do next.

  
“You plan on making a fire in yer arms Little Bird?”

  
Sansa shrieked dropping the wood onto the ground and spinning to find herself face to face with the Hound. The burned side of his lip twitched in what Sansa could only assume was finding humor in scaring her.

  
“You didn’t have to do that,” she chastised as she bent over to pick up the wood.

  
“Do what,” he lumbered past her towards the fallen tree where she made to sit earlier.

  
“Wait in the shadows, waiting to scare me,”

  
“It’s not my fault if you’re jumpy.” he knelt on the ground preparing to start a fire.

  
Sansa looked over at him. Though he was a hard and coarse man, she knew flames made him uneasy. “I can do it,”

  
“Do what, knit me a scarf?” he scoffed pushing kindling under some sticks.

  
“I know how to make a fire, I just never needed to back home.”

  
Sandor laughed, “the little bird can sing and make fire,” shaking his head. “What else ya got?”

  
Sansa was unsure of how to reply. She was almost certain he was mocking her, but at the same time curious if he was posing a real question. She chose not to humor his jape and resumed collecting her sticks to lay by his fire in progress.

Once the fire was going, Sandor had skinned his two rabbits and put them over the fire to cook. They sat in a tense silence staring into the flames. Sansa was sitting to his left, in full view of his marred flesh. When she first met him, he terrified her with his growl and harsh words. In Kingslanding his anger had her on edge, but now he was all she had. She didn’t feel fear, she felt...confused? From the beginning he had been harsh, but in his own way he had always looked out for her. This made her pause, _in every instance I needed help, the Hound has been there to help me. But why?_

  
Her eyes traced the craters and raised flesh of his scars as he rotated the makeshift spit, and her heart softened. I suppose these are questions for another time. At the very least I should apologize.

  
Before she could open her mouth he interrupted. “There’s no need,”

  
Sansa was taken aback, _did I say that out loud_?

  
“Looking any harder at my ugly face won’t change it into one of our pretty little princes,”

  
Sansa flushed, she didn’t realize she was staring. “I’m sorry ser, I didn't mean to offend-”

  
“I’m no fucking ser,” he snapped.

  
Sansa swallowed. “All the same, I should not have struck you. That was...unladylike.”

  
Sandor chuckled pulling the rabbits off the fire. “I may have deserved that,”

  
“What?” Sansa was shocked.

  
“You’ve got to learn to stick up for yourself, even to me,” he handed over one of the sticks with roasted rabbit.

  
Sansa took the rabbit with a small smile. They ate their meal in silence, both disappointed it was done so soon. Sandor retrieved the bedrolls and laid them on either side of the dying fire.

  
“Should we add more wood?” Sansa eyed the glowing kindling grow faint.

  
“No, just bundle up,” he stated, returning to his roll furthest from the dying fire. Sansa stood at the foot of her roll watching as he laid down on his. She grabbed her own and placed it about a foot away from the Hound. She knew it was anything but proper, but without the fire it would be a chilly night even with her blanket. Not to mention the fear of being out in the open and vulnerable. No, while her prude septa would be flipping in her grave at today's events, the drive to survive superseded all propriety.

  
Sandor didn’t even open his eyes, “what the fuck are you doing?”

  
“It’s cold,” Sansa answered unfolding her blanket. “Should’ve known you would be too delicate for the wilderness.”

  
Sansa started to pout, she was so tired and just wanted to go to sleep.“Well if you don’t want me here-”

  
“Just lay down,” he sighed. Sansa obeyed. She tucked herself in, as best she could, and gazed at the stars.

  
“My lord-”

“You are a stupid little bird,” he rasped. “How many times do I have to bloody tell you I’m not a ser, I’m not a knight and I’m not a lord.”

“Then what do I call you?”

“Hound like everyone else. Clegane if you find yourself fancy.” he just wanted to get some rest.

Sansa bit her lip. She wasn’t fond of the usual disdain that came with the ‘Hound’ and the name Clegane seemed to be tainted by his brothers' brutal reputation. Tucking the blanket under her chin she curled up in a ball, “Good night Sandor,”

Sandor snapped his head towards her, but she did not meet his gaze, as she was facing away from him. He had no snide remark for her this time. Instead, he laid back on his roll facing the stars above, exhaustion had finally brought his lids closed. “Good night little bird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not dear readers, there will be more "meat" in the following chapter. Sandor may have seemed unnaturally docile, but it will all become clear soon:) Please leave any comments below- thanks for reading!


End file.
